


Two kids with their hearts on fire

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Postbellum [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst and Fluff, BAMF Leia Organa, BAMF Luke Skywalker, Boonta Eve Classic, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Lightsaber Battles, M/M, Podracing, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Sparring, Tatooine, podrace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-11-02 06:23:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20651504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: Leia’s sadness enveloped Luke as a blanket, and he caught the looming danger in her brown eyes as they faced one another.All of Luke’s elation died immediately, and Leia said, “we have a problem.”





	Two kids with their hearts on fire

**Author's Note:**

> The title was taken from the song “Call You Mine” by The Chainsmokers & Bebe Rexha.
> 
> Disclaimer: Luke and the Ghost crew may be out of character for the sake of drama.

No matter how fast they were running, Ezra knew they wouldn’t make it to the Imperial base on time.

The few bases the Empire scattered across the outer rim were easy targets for the New New Republic. When peace talks had failed, a full assault was mounted. Air and ground support was in abundance, but it was the Ghost crew’s job to bomb the Imperial base.

What they didn’t expect, though, was to face so much resistance whenever they got close to the base. More Imperials kept coming, as if from an underground tunnel, and Ezra saw the inevitability of their situation before anyone else could.

They weren’t going to make it. Not even with two Jedi blocking a steady barrage of fire. Not even with Hera and Sabine and Zeb firing back using their heavy artillery weapons.

As the grasslands smoked and burned around them, Ezra called out, “shield me, Kanan!”

Before his former Master could ask why, Kanan pressed against his back. He wielded his blue lightsaber with grace, forming larger arcs and wider swings to compensate for Ezra’s protection.

Ezra squeezed his eyes shut and delved into the Force headfirst, the seconds ticking by slower than before. He knew he didn’t have much time, so his aura flew into the sky and yelled into the void.

“Ezra?” Luke breathed, nearly losing his grip on the X-wing controls. He switched off his communication link with the rest of his squadron, honing in on Ezra’s position, if only for a few precious seconds.

“We aren’t going to make it,” Ezra’s mind said. “I need you, Luke.”

The voice echoed around his X-wing cockpit, and Luke turned his comm link back on. “Major Antilles, I need you to lead the charge. We have a problem by the base.”

Ace Squadron read the nuances in his statement. What Luke really meant was ‘there’s a problem with Ezra. I need to save him.’

Wedge said, “fine, but don’t expect the Generals to be happy.”

“Ace Leader is out,” Luke said, shutting off the comm, knowing Wedge could easily command the squadron for him.

He banked the X-wing towards the Imperial base, telling Ezra through the Force, “I’ll take care of it.”

Ezra was yanked back into reality as if being submerged in ice cold water. He stepped away from Kanan, nodding in thanks as he positioned his green lightsaber in front of his chest.

Kanan went to help Hera, and Ezra beat back blaster bolts, refusing to let exhaustion settle in.

Luke was coming. Ezra just had to buy him a minute.

As he counted the seconds, he deflected as many shots away from his family as he could. Stray bolts returned back to their targets, holes smoking through Imperial shoulders and chests. A fast bolt nicked Ezra’s sleeves, but only the fabric of his jacket. 

Another bolt shot right through the blaster strapped to his thigh, and Ezra nearly sighed in frustration. He just fixed the blaster from the last battle! Now it’ll be done for good.

A whoosh in the atmosphere filled Ezra’s eardrums, and he yelled, “drop to the ground!”

He laid his stomach flat against the grass, listening as perfectly timed X-wing shots burned holes in twin gas tanks, perfectly positioned at the entrance to the Imperial base.

Luke’s presence caressed him, there and gone as the X-wing flew past, an explosion burning Ezra’s skin, even though they were far enough away.

Ezra heard fire and smoke and silenced shouts, a patch of grass brushing against his scarred cheek. He waited a moment as Luke’s ship banked away from the site, brushing back locks of hair covering his eyes.

He dipped into the Force, knowing that no one in his family was hurt, and they had indeed heeded his words to drop in time.

There was a hush over the area, crackling fire and pluming smoke all that was left of the Imperial base. Ezra pressed his palms flat against the dirt, lifting his head up, examining what was left of the gas tanks from afar.

Every hole was a direct hit on the tanks, at the precise place to do the most damage, letting the gas leak and expose the fuse lines, creating the spark that lit the flames.

Ezra Bridger is ridiculously in love with one man! And his name is Luke Skywalker!

Ezra propped himself up with his elbows, grinning foolishly as he struggled to his feet. A hand was offered, and Ezra grasped it. He was faced with Sabine, who was beaming despite a cut on her chin and a busted jet pack strapped on her shoulders.

Ezra caught Kanan grasping Hera’s hand nearby, leading her towards them. Zeb wasn’t far behind, staggering from a bolt singe.

“Ezra,” Sabine asked amusedly, loud enough so they could all hear, “did you just Force call your boyfriend to do a flyby?”

Ezra winked, and Sabine doubled over laughing.

Kanan, who was not impressed, said, “we could have handled it, Ezra.”

“No,” Ezra shook his head, “we really couldn’t have.” He leveled his gaze towards the Twi’lek who owned his former Master’s heart, and — he would argue — his mind. “Right, Hera?”

Kanan snapped his head towards Hera as she nodded in admittance.

“He’s right,” Hera said to Kanan’s incredulity. “We were never going to make it.”

Ezra turned away before anyone could come up with excuses, flipping on his wrist comm. “Hey, Leia?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leia said exasperatedly, “we’re coming to get you, Ezra. Hold on. I lost a bet.”

Ezra snickered. “Never bet against a smuggler, even if he is your fiancé.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leia griped, “shut up. I know that now. Lesson learned.”

A different voice took over the comm. “You owe me a drink now, dude,” Han said to Ezra happily.

“Yes,” Ezra rolled his eyes, “you finally got me back. Good for you.”

“You’re kriffin’ right!” Han exclaimed.

Leia took back the comm. “Sorry about that old pirate. The transport ETA is five minutes.”

“Alright. Thank you, General.”

Ezra shut off the wrist comm and heard the transport ship break the upper atmosphere. He refused to ruminate on the Ghost crew’s uneasy glares at him being so friendly with the Falcon crew.

————

The bar on base was teeming with people celebrating the victory, the party lasting until the early morning. Eventually, only the Falcon and the Ghost crews were left. They were all drunk enough to get along.

Around two in the morning, Sabine said, “Ezra, I’ve been meaning to ask. How did you become a Captain?”

Since no one seemed to know the answer, everyone clamored and jibed for an explanation.

No one knew the answer. Except Luke.

Ezra nudged Luke’s leg, his form of permission, and Luke grinned at Sabine. He left the booth, walking towards the bar, and motioned to it. “Step into my office.”

Sabine laughed delightedly and flounced over to the bar. Luke became the bartender behind the counter, and Sabine sat on a stool. Sabine practically giggled in excitement, Luke pouring out two shots of whiskey. Everyone else lingered at a booth, ready to hear whatever story Luke was about to tell.

Luke set down the bottle and said, “the mission was to save a colony of Trandoshans being held captive by Imperials. What we didn’t expect was for one of their top Generals to be there, having survived the war. He created a hostage situation, but Ezra created a distraction to allow time to retrieve the hostages before shots were fired.”

Sabine turned towards Ezra. “They made you a Captain for that?”

Ezra shrugged. “They’re giving away ranks these days.”

“That’s the official story,” Luke said casually, tipping back a whiskey shot.

By the time he pulled the glass away from his mouth, he had everyone’s undivided attention again.

Sabine asked gleefully, “what’s the unofficial story?”

As Luke smirked, Ezra said, “no, Luke. No. Don’t.”

“Before Ezra was,” Luke made his voice airy, as if he were swooning, “our hero,” he chuckled at Ezra’s alarmed expression, “I would like to point out that,” as he poured another glass, he said nonchalantly, “he tripped over a rock and fell flat on his face.”

There was a beat as Luke set down the bottle.

Then, the amount of laughter in the bar was enough to wake up anyone within a mile radius.

Sabine raised her glass upon seeing Ezra’s red face, and Luke clinked his own glass against hers.

“To our boy,” Sabine said.

“To our boy,” Luke echoed, both of them tipping back the shot.

“That sounded more like it,” Zeb said approvingly, clapping Ezra on the back. “Good one, kid.”

Ezra sighed, a tinge of pink still on his cheeks in embarrassment. 

All of a sudden, a hand was outstretched towards him. Ezra found himself blushing for an entirely different reason. 

He felt the warmth of Luke’s hand against his, and he rose to his feet. This was Luke’s way of apologizing, and honestly, it was too endearing for Ezra to pretend to be angry. Ezra couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but look into Luke’s eyes and feel completely content.

There was a chorus of ‘oohs’ that cut through the fragile moment.

Luke tore his gaze away from Ezra’s and managed, “I’m going to get out of here.”

“Me too,” Ezra said, too fast to comprehend his words.

Everyone had another round of laughs. Even Kanan and Zeb and Hera, who were skeptics on their relationship, weren’t immune to the hilarity.

“Good night,” Leia sang, winking at Luke to make him blush.

“That’s not,” Luke blushed profusely, “what I meant. Okay. Bye.”

Luke spun on his feet, and Ezra laughed as he followed Luke to their room.

————

Luke shook the paint can to the rhythm of Wedge’s beat-up radio. It was playing headache-inducing music, but Luke found it easier to get used to rather than complain.

He stepped on his X-wing ladder, dangling on one leg while the other kept him steady. The rest of Ace Squadron was working on tuning up their own starfighters, engrossed in their tasks save for occasional good-natured jibes.

Luke aimed the paint can at his slashed New New Republic decal. He sprayed the blue paint to cover up the slice, as well as the black scuff marks that ruined the insignia.

The music volume was suddenly turned up a notch, and Juno tossed a socket wrench in Wedge’s direction.

“Knock it off!” The fuschia-skinned Twi’lek exclaimed.

Wedge only shot her two thumbs up, smirking maniacally. “You’re welcome!”

“Stop smiling!” Kosa griped at Wedge. “We’re all concerned for you!”

That only made Wedge smile wider, and the reason why hit Luke like a blaster bolt to the chest.

Luke descended the ladder and projected his voice loudly, “does this have anything to do with Commander Sampson?”

At the unfamiliar name, every single head in Ace Squadron swiveled towards Wedge’s reddening face.

As if the Force had commanded it, every pilot abandoned their tasks to rush towards Wedge, crowding him in a circle.

Luke practically skipped towards them, radiating a huge grin as he heard Nein ask, “who’s Commander Sampson?”

Luke broke through the circle and replied casually, “oh, just a guy that Wedge has a crush on.”

There were gasps, and they asked why they hadn’t heard of this earlier.

Wedge chuckled nervously.

Luke has known Wedge long enough to know what that cue meant.

“Did something happen that you want to tell us about, Wedge?” Luke prompted.

“Yes,” Kosa beamed, “is there anything you wanna say, Wedge?”

Ace Squadron fell silent, waiting for the pin to drop. 

Wedge blushed, and mumbled, “IkissedhimsoNateismyboyfriendnow.”

Luke’s grin only widened, and the entire squadron started squealing. Luke clapped, slow and loud, and everyone else joined in.

Wedge wanted to disappear, and Luke said, “it’s about time! Yes!”

As a chorus of cheers began, a Force presence cut off Luke’s laughter.

His twin sister was a stormcloud approaching them, and Luke exclaimed, “my sister’s coming! Look busy!”

Ace Squadron scattered back to their stations with a speed that Luke would applaud them for in a different circumstance. They pretended to do their tune ups, Luke miming stepping down from the X-wing ladder.

Leia’s sadness enveloped Luke as a blanket, and he caught the looming danger in her brown eyes as they faced one another.

All of Luke’s elation died immediately, and Leia said, “we have a problem.”

Luke followed Leia out of the hanger without a word, Ace Squadron sending him concerned glances.

Neither spoke until they entered Mon’s office, which was vacated of the woman herself, who was off world with General Ackbar.

Leia motioned to Mon’s seat, and pulled up a video on the holographic screen. “This was meant for you.”

Leia stood beside Luke as he played the video.

The frame was composed of slaves, stormtroopers, and a Hutt.

Rotta the Hutt, Luke recalled. Jabba’s son.

Karabast.

Rotta the Hutt spoke in Huttese. “I know you can understand me, Skywalker. It has taken me over a year to track down the man that destroyed my father’s empire. When I learned that you were the son of one of Gardulla’s slaves,” the Hutt laughed heartily, “I figured I could squash you like the bug you are.”

Luke felt ice lance through his beating heart, a coldness spreading through his insides. His own mortality became readily apparent to him, as real as the Force connection he shared with Leia.

“Your cause seeks to form an alliance,” Rotta the Hutt said. “Instead of demanding your execution, I decided I will let you speak for yourself. So, Skywalker, if you want an alliance, you must abide by my terms.”

Luke felt his airways closing in on him, and he barely remembered to breathe. Fear threatened to plague his aura, but he threw it into the Force, refusing to let the feeling fester.

“You are to come to my father’s palace,” Rotta the Hutt instructed, “which I have inherited. You are to come alone. If I see any of your ships remotely near Hutt Space, I will throw you to the sarlaccs, and this time, your sentence will stick.” He paused to let the threat sink in. “You will do as your father did to win his freedom, should you wish to escape Tatooine with your life.”

Luke knew exactly what Rotta the Hutt meant, and it made him feel sick.

He was a good pilot, but was he that good?

“Any attempt to escape or cheat will lead to your immediate execution,” Rotta the Hutt continued. “I will broadcast it on the holos for the entire galaxy to see their hero die with no honor.”

Luke clenched his jaw, suddenly wishing he had died on the second Death Star explosion. If he had, he wouldn’t have the repercussions to deal with.

His heart was beating too loud and too fast, and Luke knew, with a stray slice, it would end his life forever.

He didn’t want to die. Not now.

“I expect to see you soon, Skywalker,” Rotta the Hutt said, “or my bounty hunters will make every day as painful as possible for you.”

The video ended, and Luke leaned back in Mon’s chair.

“He’s a cheery guy,” Luke said nonchalantly.

“Luke,” Leia said dangerously, “don’t joke about this.”

Luke gritted his teeth, trying to best to exude the serenity required of a Jedi. 

But actually…

Fuck serenity.

Luke’s entire being dampened, his spirits sinking into the sands clogging his heart.

Leia frowned, brushing back the bangs covering Luke’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to get super depressed.”

Luke said numbly, “I’ll do it.”

“No.”

“Leia…”

“Luke,” Leia said sharply, “he’s going to kill you.”

Luke borrowed some of Leia’s fire, letting it consume his blue eyes. “He can try.”

He was speaking her language, and she smirked.

“I don’t like this,” Leia said, “but I know what you’re capable of.”

“Just like I know you strangled Jabba to death with your own slave chain. If you can take down a Hutt,” Luke said, “I can certainly give it a shot.”

Leia’s smirk fell. “You realize that you have to win the deadliest race in the galaxy to even get close to Rotta, right?”

Luke nodded. “If our father can do it, I can do it.”

At the mention of their father, Leia grimaced. “I’m actually curious about how he did it.”

“The Force,” Luke said. “It will protect me too.”

“If you say so,” Leia muttered uncertainly.

————

Luke locked himself in the empty medbay for an hour, sorting his mind out and meditating and waiting for her to arrive.

When she did, her black hair was messier than usual underneath her pilot’s cap and goggles. She was tired after her long trip back from Coruscant. She spent two weeks there smuggling precious cargo on their behalf.

Her eyes slid towards him, and she asked, “what did you do now?”

Luke smiled at Doctor Aphra. “You aren’t going to like this one bit.”

Aphra sighed, sitting on the cot beside Luke. “Now what do I have to do, huh?”

“I need you to help me kill Rotta the Hutt,” Luke said casually.

Doctor Aphra stared at him for a long moment.

Then, she asked, “why aren’t you asking Solo for help?”

“Because you have an edge that Han doesn’t,” Luke replied. “You have more autonomy.”

Aphra worried her lip. “What’s the plan?”

“You,” Luke replied, “are responsible for smuggling weapons and bomb charges into the palace on Tatooine.”

Aphra’s eyebrow shot up. “Is that so?”

“I need you to fly ahead of us and get inside the Hutt’s palace,” Luke said. “The entire place is going to be one big trap if you plant all the weapons discreetly enough.” His breath hitched, and he added, “I also need charges in the pod racing arena in case Rotta decides to attend.”

“Attend what?” Aphra asked confusedly.

“My pod race,” Luke replied simply.

“Your what?!”

“My pod race,” Luke repeated.

Aphra was visibly upset. “A sweet guy like you should be nowhere near a pod race.”

Luke grasped his datapad on the side table and powered it on. His artificial intelligence program, Meredith, awakened after a long sleep.

“Meredith,” Luke said, “pull up the video Leia sent to your messaging system.”

“Oh,” Meredith commented, “this looks very concerning.”

“Play it,” Luke said, tilting the screen towards Aphra.

Doctor Aphra was left stunned after Rotta the Hutt finished his threats on the video. She blinked, her eyes welling up. To see such a tough woman ready to cry nearly made Luke’s resoluteness waver.

“Kriff, Luke,” Doctor Aphra said softly, “you’re going to get killed if I don’t do this, aren’t you?”

Luke smiled gently at her. He adopted a soothing voice. “I can figure something else out.”

“You nerf herder,” Aphra said with a wobbly smile. “You’re guilt tripping me.”

Luke batted his eyelashes. “Sorry, Aphra. Don’t feel like dying this week.”

Doctor Aphra frowned deeply at his nonchalant tone. “Don’t joke about that. You’ve got so much life left in you, Luke. I’m going to make sure you make it out of this alive.”

“Does that mean you’re in?” Luke asked eagerly.

“Yes,” Doctor Aphra said, “you got what you wanted.”

————

The first hour after Leia showed every base officer the video, Ezra was fuming with anger.

Why didn’t Luke come to him? Why didn’t he tell him first? Why didn’t he warn him?

When the first hour became the second hour, Ezra remembered how Luke must be feeling, and became immensely concerned.

Why wasn’t he seeking anyone out? Why was he hiding? What was going through his mind?

‘Luke is going to assassinate Rotta the Hutt,’ Leia had projected into the teeming crowd. ‘He is using this opportunity to take down one of the biggest crime rings in the galaxy. He needs your support. All of our support!’

It was meant to rouse the crowd, but it only brought uneasiness. It sent the message directly through their hearts, staying there and spreading as effectively as a disease.

Luke had no choice in the matter. He had no choice but to carry out the Hutt’s demands.

But it was so very ‘Luke Skywalker’ of Luke to find a way to win in a dire situation.

So as the second hour became the third hour, Ezra just wanted to give Luke some semblance of comfort. And perhaps give him a reason to keep fighting, no matter what happened.

Ezra smirked at the idea that popped into his head, and decided to give Luke a little motivation.

When the day became night, Ezra sensed Luke nearing their bedroom. He slipped into the fresher and let the shower spray run over him. He counted the minutes, knowing Luke was getting stopped in the hallway too often for his liking, and ducked his hair under the water.

Another few minutes passed, and Luke keyed open the door. Their Force signatures danced around each other, but didn’t get too close. Luke seemed to take this as a bad sign, plopping down on their bed and waiting.

Ezra counted out a minute before shutting off the fresher, drying himself off leisurely. An old pair of Luke’s pajama pants that Ezra grabbed were loose on his legs when he slipped them on. Luke’s legs were thinner and longer, so the pants hung low on his waist and pooled at his feet. Their two-inch height difference in Luke’s favor never felt more colossal.

Ezra grasped a head towel and scrubbed at his damp nest of hair, wondering if he should shave it down again. He dismissed the idea instantly. Long hair suits him more than short.

His hair was dry after another few minutes, falling in uneven waves across his face. The fresher light made his hair look moonlit blue rather than pitch black, and he made a note to replace the light.

If Luke could build an AI, Ezra could change out a light.

Ezra remembered what he was going to do, and he schooled his expression. He slid open the fresher door and, as casually as possible, leaned against the frame in Luke’s pajama pants and nothing else.

Luke’s eyes were immediately blown wide. No small amount of hesitation prevented him from doing anything, not even speaking. Luke didn’t know what power he had in this situation, if any, since he was the one meant to be stuttering out apologies and softly asking for forgiveness.

Ezra glided towards Luke’s position on the bed, and he could tell Luke didn’t know where he should be looking. As always, he soon settled for the eyes.

Ezra stood between Luke’s legs, giving him no choice but to crane his neck to gaze into his eyes. Luke followed Ezra’s movements as he lowered himself onto Luke’s lap, arms around shoulders. Luke was paralyzed and contemplative as Ezra sat, wondering if this would lead to an argument or sweet torture.

“Are you mad at me?” Luke asked softly, as if he were waiting for the affirmative to be confirmed.

Two hours ago, Ezra was mad. He was steaming with rage. But now was not two hours ago.

Ezra shook his head, and Luke exhaled in relief.

“Do you hate me?” Luke asked with bated breath.

Ezra shook his head again. He could never.

“What, then?” Luke asked, searching Ezra’s eyes for a hint of an answer.

Ezra plucked up Luke’s hands in his. He held them against the bedspread, Luke unsure what to do besides glance down at them.

“Instead of being angry, or arguing, or saying things we don’t mean,” Ezra said measuredly, “I want you to know what you’re missing.”

Luke’s head snapped up, blinking incredulously.

He breathed, “oh, you’re cruel, Ez.”

Ezra smiled innocently, playing dumb. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, love.”

Luke sighed, tipping his head against Ezra’s bare chest. “I hate you.”

“You don’t seem so sure about that.”

Luke shook his head, and Ezra chuckled. Luke picked his head back up, amusement in his gaze. 

A moment passed, and Luke crumpled again. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I know, Luke. I know.”

Luke’s emotions were torn in a dozen directions, his eyes glistening as he tried to grasp at something positive.

In the end, Luke whispered, “hold me.”

Ezra nodded, and they fell into each other, caught in a strange hug that neither man wanted to break.

Ezra didn’t know how much time passed, but Luke’s hands suddenly dragged up his spine, and he shivered.

Luke said into his shoulder, “can we move now?”

Another beat, and Ezra said, “fine.”

He slipped away from Luke’s lap and allowed him to lay against the pillow. Ezra laid beside him, throwing a blanket of warmth into the Force, where he hoped it burned in a blazing fire.

Luke was suddenly in his arms, fingertips skirting down bare skin. There was nothing but the intent to comfort in Luke’s mind, and Ezra realized then how intimacy came in different forms. He was never able to distinguish it before. He thought every type of love was assigned a person in his life, and that was all they were to him. Kanan was fatherly love, Hera was motherly love, Zeb was brotherly love, and Sabine was sisterly love.

It wasn’t so easy with Luke. He was every love all at once, shattering Ezra’s worldview in a single whimper.

As Luke traced Ezra’s lines, Ezra allowed him this time in silence. Luke seemed to need this, need him. It was a reminder for Luke, what he had and what he was forced to leave. Ezra understood how Luke’s Force signature ached, and how touch was sometimes the only sense he could comprehend fully. 

Ezra wished he could do more in this moment, but to Luke, he was doing more than enough.

Luke’s fingers stopped at Ezra’s rib cage, splaying between every bone beneath olive-bronze skin. Luke’s eyes fell closed, and his quivering lips choked on a rising sob. 

The realization that he was leaving in the morning hit Luke, and hit him hard.

Ezra instinctively drew Luke closer, kissing his forehead. “None of that, love. None of that, okay?”

Luke nodded his head furiously, blinking away welling eyes and peering up at Ezra. Their gazes were locked in a memory, of making love in the Lake Country at Naboo, where their love had never felt more galaxy-ending and intense and beautiful. 

Ezra capitalized on the moment and kissed Luke’s forehead again. “You will come back to me, come the burning lava of Mustafar or the heavy rains of Kamino. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Luke exhaled.

————

“Doc,” Luke asked, “how are we doing?”

His older starfighter flew past a meteor, the signal on the comm becoming clearer as he neared Tatooine.

“I’m sweating my ass off for you, farmboy,” Doctor Aphra griped.

“Doc.”

“Farmboy.”

“Doc.”

“Yes,” Aphra said exasperatedly, “the charges are set. I even got your glow stick hidden underneath a bar tile while everyone was asleep.”

“Glow stick?” Luke chuckled. Since their transmission could be at risk, Aphra came up with humorous code words.

“It was almost too easy to get a seat in Rotta’s palace,” Aphra remarked. “He’s short on bounty hunters and smugglers.”

“So his threat about hunting me down was a bluff?”

“He’s on skeleton crew. Kriff yeah, it was a bluff.”

“Oh well,” Luke half-shrugged, “I’m still doing this so we can get some of his credits.”

“Do I get a cut?”

“Sure, Doc. Just make sure to take it before my sister sees it.”

“Deal, farmboy. Now I’m gonna scope out the arena of doom.”

Luke snorted. “Don’t be so morbid.”

“Where’s the lie?” Doctor Aphra countered.

Luke scoffed, Tatooine a looming dust ball. “I’ll see you in the throne room, Doc.”

“Sure will, farmboy.”

————

Angel of Iego. That’s what they called Luke on Canto Bight, when he paraded around in translucent white to aid Ezra in his sabacc game.

As Luke was taken to the throne room, hands bound, he was stared at for an entirely different reason.

Here, he was an Angel of Death. He dressed accordingly, in the same black ensemble he wore on Han’s rescue mission. The rescue lead to no small amount of deaths, with Jabba the Hutt’s criminal empire being the most important casualty. Rotta tried to pick up the pieces, but from the low turnout at the palace, Luke could tell he was still getting there.

He caught sight of Doctor Aphra at the bar, sitting as if she were engaged in conversation, but her attention was entirely on him.

Rotta the Hutt was a younger copy of his father, but his slug skin was a yellow color, as putrid as the late Jabba’s green skin. His eyes were also a slightly different shade, and the newness of his anointed position was a stench that Luke could smell.

He had that same naivety once. But that moisture farmer was long dead.

“Skywalker,” Rotta the Hutt sneered in Huttese, “how wonderful to meet you in person.”

Luke wanted to coat his voice in mockery and say ‘I can’t say the same.’

But he would get executed by holo immediately.

Luke said in his native Huttese tongue, “you caused quite a stir among my people. I’m flattered by the attention. Genuinely, Your Excellency.”

Rotta the Hutt chortled, and his slaves chuckled along awkwardly, not looking him in the eye.

“It’s a wonder how you still have a tongue, boy,” Rotta the Hutt spat. “Kneel when you speak to me.”

One of the guards jabbed a staff in his back, and Luke knelt. He curbed his rage, tossing it carelessly into the Force before he made a wrong move.

“Your Illustrious Rotta the Hutt,” Luke said carefully, “am I correct in assuming I will race in the Boonta Eve Classic?”

Rotta the Hutt’s eyes shone with amusement. “You are, Skywalker. I expect your presence will ensure the most watched pod race in Tatooine’s history.”

“I am at your bidding, Your Excellency,” Luke said, bowing his head to indicate false sincerity.

Rotta the Hutt was too inexperienced to understand the dangerous nuances in his tone. “Good, Skywalker. Good.” He glanced at his rightmost guard. “Take him to the cells.”

Luke’s back was jabbed again, the other guard pulling him to his feet by the forearm. He didn’t jostle or tug his arm away, even though he desperately wanted to spit out one last defiant word.

He caught Doctor Aphra’s melancholic gaze as he was ushered out of the throne room.

————

Ezra sat inside the Ghost, curled up in the booth. He had just gone outside the base and found a small log. He brought it inside the freighter, taking out his switchblade. He spent an hour carving into the log, shaving away most of the wood until he had a thick rectangle. He created curves along two opposite sides, poking a hole through the top side.

It was at this point when Hera ascended the ramp and entered the room. Her shock at seeing him there resonated as an echoing clap through the Force.

Hera approached with caution, as if Ezra were a wild animal that could be spooked. Her eyes settled on the wood and switchblade, concern and confusion etched into them.

“What do you have there, Ezra?” Hera asked softly.

Ezra realized how he must look to her, a man having a nervous breakdown. And carrying a knife, no less. 

He made his demeanor as gentle as possible, and said calmly, “I’m making a necklace.”

Hera slid into the opposite side of the booth, and Ezra pretended not to hear her sigh in relief.

“What kind of a necklace?” Hera’s gaze swept over the shape of the wood, and she guessed, “a japor snippet?”

“Yes,” Ezra said, feeling immensely vulnerable.

Hera knew well enough who the japor snippet was for, but she didn’t mention it aloud.

“Why are you all alone?” Hera asked concernedly.

“It’s quiet here,” Ezra replied. “Helps with my concentration.”

“I’ll be in the cockpit if you need anything,” Hera offered, “okay?”

“Okay, Mom,” Ezra quipped.

That set Hera at ease, and she smiled. She patted Ezra’s hand and left the room. Ezra began carving out the design on the japor snippet.

————

When night fell, and nearly everyone in the palace was passed out on floors, Doctor Aphra came to Luke’s cell.

Luke was waiting, unable to sleep. The guard posted at the door was unconscious, and Aphra nudged his boot to make sure he was out cold.

Luke strode up to the bars, and he could see Aphra faking a smile. “Hey, farmboy,” she said cheerily. “Wanna go out for a jaunt?”

“I probably shouldn’t,” Luke said in a lower tone. “Never know who could be watching in this place.”

“Your loss,” Aphra said with a shrug. “Wanna drink, though?”

“Absolutely.”

Aphra grinned, and it reminded Luke faintly of Han’s cocksure smile. “Fantastic. I have a bunch.”

She pulled out several flasks and options from her inner leather jacket pockets. Every small glass and flask were set on the concrete with a clink.

She listed each alcohol while pointing a finger towards it, and Luke chose the strongest rum she had on her.

“Wow,” Aphra said, handing him the bottle, “you don’t play around with your drinks, do you?”

Luke smiled demurely, grabbing the bottle in between the bars and opening it. “I don’t think it works if it’s not burning you from the inside out.”

Aphra raised a flask of whiskey. “Here here, farmboy.”

They both gulped down their drinks as if toasting, and Luke felt a fire burn him slow. His throat burned, his tongue burned, his stomach burned.

“Everything’s ready on my end,” Aphra reported. “Now what’s your game plan?”

“To win the game,” Luke said, a glint in his eye.

Aphra shook her head. “You can’t be so sure you’ll win.”

“I know it sounds naive,” Luke said, “but I know I can. My determination has gotten me far in life.”

“You do sound foolish,” Aphra said, “but you’ve destroyed way more shit than I have. I can’t really judge.”

“I have, huh?”

“You and your sister both.”

“Yeah,” Luke said somberly.

Doctor Aphra picked up on it, because she infuriatingly picked up on everything. “Miss them?”

“Yeah,” Luke admitted. “But don’t tell them that.”

Luke suddenly thought about how, just that morning, he woke up beside Ezra. It was as if weeks had passed when it had only been hours.

Aphra picked up on this, too, and she rested her cheek on her hand. She mocked a dreamy tone as she asked, “thinking about your charming little Knight?”

Luke scoffed, hiding a smile with another sip from his alcohol. “I’m trying not to,” he said honestly. “Though I did enjoy your short joke. I’m gonna use that one. He’ll hate it.”

“Ah,” Aphra mused, “the anger of short people is truly adorable.”

“We’re all kinda short,” Luke pointed out. “Ezra’s just shorter.”

Luke’s expression dampened, and he grimaced.

“See?” Luke said. “Now I’m thinking about him more. Karabast.”

Aphra made a drinking motion, and Luke followed through.

————

The only one who wasn’t asleep besides Leia was Ezra. She sensed his presence as acutely as she usually sensed Luke’s. In his absence, Ezra’s Force signature was a crackling fire, not the calm waters that mimicked Kanan’s.

While a fire can bring warmth, Leia knew it also brought danger.

That’s why she padded across base in her pajamas towards Luke’s bedroom. She needed to check in on Ezra.

As she approached the door, it slid open, revealing Ezra wearing a pair of Luke’s pajama pants and a beige shirt. His green kyber crystal necklace lit up his weary gaze, part of his scarred face obscured in shadow.

Something passed between them through the Force.

Ezra asked, “wanna spar?”

Leia shrugged in a ‘why not?’ gesture, and Ezra stepped into the hallway, the door hissing closed.

The hallways were bathed in soft lighting from the backup generator, and Ezra matched Leia’s pace. A cleaning bot skittered past Leia’s foot, and she took smaller steps to curve past obstacles. Ezra did the same, until they entered the supply room Leia used to train.

Weapons canisters lined the walls rather than being stacked everywhere, and Ezra asked, “you train here often?”

“With that,” Leia said, pointing towards the training sphere that Luke gave her.

“To control your emotions,” Ezra inquired, “or to get them out of your system?”

“It’s hard to tell which,” Leia replied honestly.

“Fair enough,” Ezra said with a shrug. He unclipped his necklace and slipped the kyber crystal into his lightsaber hilt, which she didn’t notice was tucked into Luke’s pants.

Leia retrieved Luke’s old lightsaber from inside a weapon canister, the hilt warm in her palm.

Ezra ignited his lightsaber and leapt.

Leia spun around and ignited hers just in time to block his blow.

She laughed. “Nice try.”

Ezra made to smile, but it wound up a forlorn grimace. Something entered his eyes and left it just as quickly.

An echo in Ezra’s mind crashed into her own, and she caught an image of Luke’s lightsaber clashing against Ezra’s. He had tried to catch Luke by surprise, but Luke’s eyes danced with amusement.

‘Nice try,’ memory-Luke teased.

The image was torn from Leia’s grasp like a stolen tooka doll, and Ezra struck.

Leia countered defensively, blinking at Ezra, the memory washed away as if it never happened.

Or Ezra was pretending it didn’t happen for his own sanity. Leia could understand that.

Ezra pushed back, and swung low. Leia jumped and spun, her blade catching his before it could strike her leg. She righted herself with a nudge from the Force, and Ezra beamed.

“Wow,” he exclaimed, “neat trick! You gotta teach me that!”

Leia couldn’t help but laugh at how childish Ezra looked sometimes, as if he were a young boy being handed sweets. Ezra studied Luke in a more passionate manner, though, like he was the sweetest sweet of them all.

Leia batted her lightsaber in angled swings, and Ezra blocked each one easily. 

“Maybe one day,” Leia said airily. “Or you could ask your boyfriend.”

Ezra faltered at the mention of Luke, as Leia knew he would. Leia dove forward, striking with the intent to sweep his legs out from under him.

Ezra cast his lightsaber downward right on time, staggering back a little, remembering himself.

Leia arced the lightsaber upwards, and Ezra deflected, “you’re better than I thought you would be.”

Leia smiled sweetly. 

————

Luke barely fit inside the pod racer cockpit.

He knew that only certain alien species and human children could race comfortably, but he didn’t expect it to be such a problem. Or for each pod racer to be a disaster ready to explode if so much as one sand particle hit the turbines at a wrong angle.

Pod racers had not gotten more safe, or even more stable, with the passage of time. It was a game where pilots either cheated death or died in the worst possible way.

Luke clutched the pilot’s tags fastened underneath his jumpsuit, and prayed his blood didn’t splatter across the windshield. 

The sheer amount of bets Luke saw being placed against him made him think this was a fixed race. He knew the fight would be a dirty one, but he should have expected a fix.

It was his job to beat the odds. Han did it all the time, and he wasn’t even Force sensitive. Luke could do it too.

Every racer would be gunning for him. There were probably undetectable obstacles across the entire track, meant to jam the turbines or cut off the energy core running the engine.

The long list of issues Luke could have with his pod racer was enough to give him a panic attack. But he took a deep breath, popped on his helmet, and strapped himself inside the cockpit.

The racers were on the track, Luke positioned dead last. He imagined Rotta laughing from inside his palace, and felt determination fuel his entire being.

The crowd above him was screaming for blood. Specifically, his blood.

Luke delved into the Force, using it to steady his heartbeat and clear his mind. 

The lights went from red to yellow to green.

Luke shot off like a rocket.

————

Ezra’s fascination with flipping a switchblade truly worried Leia. He was the first to seclude himself in a holo screen room to turn on the Boonta Eve Classic. He started to thumb his switchblade as soon as he sat on the couch. 

Leia took the cushion beside him and side glanced at him warily. After a moment, Ezra met her gaze and stopped fidgeting.

“Sorry,” Ezra mumbled.

“I’m nervous too,” Leia said. “It’s okay.”

Ezra stared at the screens as advertisements played. The door slid open, and Sabine squished on Ezra’s opposite side.

When she eyed the switchblade, her voice softened. “I’m just gonna,” she pried the knife from Ezra’s hands, “take that away from you.” She tucked the knife into her loose pants pocket.

Ezra tried to tug his lips up in a wan smile, but they stretched into a thin line. He said nothing, and Sabine patted his shoulder.

Han arrived a moment later, rounding the couch and sitting on Leia’s opposite side. His usual debonair expression was drawn into a tight mask, his emotions ready to spill from their containment at any second, the doors to his soul ready to burst.

Leia reached out, her palm resting atop his hand. Han stilled, but didn’t make to move, profile stuck on the screen.

A soft yowl indicated Chewie’s arrival, and two droids halting their argument indicated Artoo and Threepio’s emergence.

Hera entered as the pod race was about to begin. Ezra glanced up incredulously, and Hera smoothed back his wild hair to show affection and sympathy. She crisscrossed in front of Sabine, who beamed at her appearance.

As the clock counted down to less than a minute, Kanan and Zeb entered the screen room, sitting beside Hera, far enough away that Leia didn’t comment on their appearance.

It showed that everyone in this room cared for Luke, and Leia was glad to see so much support.

Han’s hand fidgeted underneath her own, and Leia glanced at him. He was half-smiling, coming to the same conclusion Leia had. He turned over his palm, allowing Leia to slide her fingers in between his.

Five seconds left, and the pod racers were off.

————

The first half of the race was a blur to Luke.

His entire thought process was about dodging rocks and hovering underneath low formations without crashing. It was his most basic survival instincts on overdrive, and he nearly forgot he was supposed to be racing against other pods.

He was reminded of the race when two pods collided a little too close for comfort, flames licking at his skin and nearly catching in his left turbine.

This was hell. This was war without a purpose.

He flew the pod racer to the left just in time to miss a sudden canyon in the middle of the track, a single bridge the only way across without falling to his death. The pod beside him wasn’t so lucky, and the Dug fell into the endless pit, crashing against the side of the canyon.

Nearly every racer was dead, he thinks. Two pods had shorted out at the very start, and there had been three collisions since. With the drop into the canyon, that left three racers on the track.

And they were only two-thirds of the way to the finish line.

Luke dipped into the Force and prayed.

————

Rotta the Hutt started tossing objects across the room.

“HOW IS THIS HAPPENING?!” He yelled in Huttese. “HOW IS HE WINNING A FIXED RACE?”

Doctor Aphra winced at the display, looking at the screen discreetly from the bar. She glanced at the bartender, wondering if he knew about the lightsaber under his feet. Would he use it? Would anyone stay here if given the chance?

And that gave Doctor Aphra a wonderful idea.

She rose from the bar stool, downing a whiskey and setting the empty glass on the counter. She slinked towards the back of the throne room, not a single bounty hunter paying attention to her.

She leaned against a wall panel with a false backing. She had hidden her twin heavy-duty blasters back there.

When Luke returned, Aphra was going to light this place up.

————

Luke saw the only pod racer between him and victory a half-mile away. The turbines were twice the size of his own, and if there were regulations on these races, Luke knew this guy would break them all.

This was the racer that was fixed to win the race. It was obvious in the way the pod was built, meant to give him the most unfair advantage.

This was Rotta the Hutt’s trump card.

Game on.

Luke put enough pressure on the turbines for them to whine in protest. He felt them stall, then shoot forward as effectively as a blaster bolt.

His heart in his throat, he heard the turbines working into exhaustion, and called upon the Force. A spark was ignited in the right turbine fan, and Luke commanded a breeze towards the flame.

Sand particles and dust hit the flame at the right angle, snuffing it out before it could damage the turbines any further.

Luke exhaled in relief, and rocketed closer to the other pod racer. He immediately dumped debris in Luke’s direction, and he darted away in time. 

Luke gained on him fast, kicking up enough dust to create a sandstorm. The Force was a tornado around him, and Luke fought against the urge to weaponize it in his favor. He let the Force simply be, whirling around him in an invisible world.

The turbines zoomed past the other pod racer, and Luke caught his enraged expression. 

He flew across the finish line, and the arena erupted in chaos.

————

Leia breathed for the first time since the race began. Luke crossed the finish line, and she allowed herself to exhale in relief.

Some in the room cheered, but Leia glanced at a silent Ezra. He blinked at the screen and hung his head low.

Leia frowned, nudging him in the Force. Ezra looked at her.

Leia instantly knew what he was thinking about. The pod race was only half of the battle. He was thinking about what was to come next.

‘He can do this,’ she said to his mind.

Ezra clenched his fist and released it. He inhaled sharply, and nodded.

————

Doctor Aphra’s mind was a minefield, Luke realized, as he caught her eye.

Aphra tapped at the false backing behind her, and Luke’s eyes widened exponentially. He would call that a last resort.

Luke was forced to his knees in front of Rotta the Hutt. His rage was enough to create a thunderstorm in the Force, the room crackling with dangerous energy. Luke was reminded of the Emperor, Force lightning coursing through his veins, until his father stopped him from dying in a throne room that was now nonexistent.

Here he was, in yet another throne room, about to do the very thing he was supposed to with the Emperor. End another life.

Luke pitied Rotta the Hutt. He could have changed things. He had the chance, and he didn’t take it.

“I should put your head on a spike, boy,” Rotta sneered in Huttese. “I should parade you around and let my bounty hunters spit on your dead body.”

Luke said nothing.

“You have the gall,” Rotta the Hutt said, “to break the sacred fix! You have the stupidity not to die honorably on the track!”

Luke bowed his head and smiled.

“Don’t you smile at me, boy,” Rotta the Hutt griped. “This means nothing! I have the ability to execute you right now!”

Luke heard the sound of an energy blaster being turned on, its twin humming loud enough for every head to turn.

Doctor Aphra pointed both blaster barrels in Rotta’s direction. 

“I don’t think so,” she said in Huttese, “slime ball.”

So much for a last resort.

Aphra fired an energy charge to Rotta’s left, a section of the wall crumbling at the beam, the ceiling cracking. Rotta’s slaves and guards scattered, running out of the throne room.

Luke arched an eyebrow in shock, then rose to his full height. He smirked at Aphra, who winked.

“Good one, Doc,” Luke said.

He reached out with the Force, and his lightsaber hilt flew from under the bar, smacking into his palm. He stuck it to his belt without igniting it.

A beat later, the two dozen bounty hunters in the room came to their senses. They pointed blasters at Doctor Aphra and Luke.

Neither were threatened. In fact, it was amusing.

“Really, guys?” Aphra laughed. “Would any of you seriously put your life on the line to protect Rotta the Hutt?”

The bounty hunters looked to each other, thought for a moment, and lowered their weapons.

“Now skedaddle!” Aphra barked.

Luke held back laughs as bounty hunters filed out of the throne room.

As Aphra took her place by his side, Luke smiled at a befuddled Hutt. “It seems you have no more friends,” he said airily.

Aphra handed a button control to Luke, and she said, “the charge is above his head.”

Luke’s eyes swept past spiderweb cracks on the ceiling and saw the bomb charge. Rotta the Hutt looked too, and nearly choked on his own tongue.

“How’d you get that up there?” Luke inquired.

“A lady never tells,” Aphra replied smoothly.

“Well,” Luke stepped closer to Rotta, “I’m disappointed that it had to come down to this. Genuinely, Your Excellency. You could have bettered this planet, and so many others, if you hadn’t taken up your father’s old job.”

“Killing me won’t make much of a difference,” Rotta the Hutt said coolly.

“Oh,” Luke said, “I know it will.”

He backpedaled, Aphra following his pace.

Luke pushed the button.

————

As the palace crumbled, Doctor Aphra yelled, “THIS WAY!”

Luke followed, as silent and quick as a shadow.

Aphra chose not to let it upset her, and ponder how strange Luke seemed in such a dark place, clad in all black like an assassin.

In a way, that’s what Luke Skywalker was. An assassin.

Aphra hated to witness a sunshine man become a shadow beast so easily.

Every spaceship and vehicle was parked outside the palace, and Aphra ran towards a landspeeder. It was abandoned when she arrived, and she had hotwired it in minutes. She ducked past a blaster bolt, and realized a bounty hunter was shooting at them.

Seriously?

She shot back blindly, and she heard another bolt stick. But not to her.

She turned around, eyes blown wide.

Luke pulled away a hand on his stomach, and it came out coated in crimson.

Enraged, Doctor Aphra found the Rodian bounty hunter and fired, both energy bolts hitting him square in the chest. She didn’t hear him fall, but she didn’t care.

She rushed towards Luke, and said frantically, “keep your hand on the wound. Hold it tight.”

Luke, who had paled considerably, numbly did as she asked. Aphra threw his arm around her shoulders and helped him walk.

“Come on,” Aphra breathed, “just a few more steps. Come on.”

Luke walked as steadily as he could alongside Aphra, and they made it inside the landspeeder. Aphra clicked two wires together, and the engine roared to life. She sped off as fast as possible, away from the palace as it fell into ash and dust and ruins. She drove towards Luke’s ship, knowing that she could retrieve her own transport at any time. She had friends in high places.

Aphra removed a flask from inside her jacket and stuck her gloved fingers towards Luke, one hand on the wheel. “It’s a temporary fix, but,” she glanced at Luke’s blinking eyes, “pour alcohol over your stomach.”

Luke slowly uncapped the flask and lifted up his black collared shirt. His stomach was a bleeding hole, and he winced as the gin did its job with cleaning the wound.

Aphra made it to Luke’s ship quicker than she expected, which was parked in front of an abandoned farm. Singe marks from blaster shots littered the door and side of the sandy igloo, a massive outpouring of sand covering up whatever happened there.

She shut off the landspeeder and guided Luke towards the ramp, which she keyed open with a master switch. Luke was losing a lot of blood, and it was taking a lot of effort to remain conscious. Aphra had been there before.

To keep his mind active, Aphra asked, “who’s place was this, anyway?”

“Mine,” Luke said.

Aphra observed the farmland uneasily.

“Well,” Luke corrected, “my aunt and uncle’s.”

“Where are they now?” She asked hollowly.

Luke had enough strength to gesture to the bolt marks on the farm. “Where do you think?”

Aphra winced. “Shit, kid.” She didn’t apologize, since she knew Luke wouldn’t appreciate it. No one ever liked a reminder of past losses.

They ascended the ramp slowly, and Aphra said, “I know this is going to sound awful of me-”

“But I should fly?” Aphra dropped Luke into the pilot’s chair. Luke gritted his teeth and said, “it makes sense. I can’t pass out, right?”

“No,” Aphra replied. “It’s non-negotiable at this point in time.”

“Understood.”

“Get us in the air,” Aphra said. “I’ll get my medkit.”

Luke had the gall to grin, a pained edge to it. “Good thing I brought the Doc with me, huh?”

Aphra huffed and shook her head. “Shut up, farmboy.”

————

It was midnight when the hanger doors opened.

After spending several hours helping displaced slaves gain their freedom on Tatooine from a distance, Leia was exhausted enough to actually sleep tonight.

But she sensed her brother, and she rose from the Falcon booth in a flash.

Chewbacca, who was cleaning the Falcon interior, saw her sharp movement and growled a question.

“It’s Luke,” Leia said dazedly. “Get Han.”

Chewie yowled and went to the bedroom, where Han was trying in vain to sleep.

Leia opened the Falcon ramp, and saw Ezra run into the hanger entrance as if his life depended on it.

If it weren’t for Ezra’s broken expression, she would have laughed at him for being overdramatic.

“Do you feel that?” Ezra’s face twisted, his voice soft as a whisper but as intense as a lightning storm. “He’s hurt.”

Leia forgot how to breathe, because suddenly, she felt it too. It was a searing pain in her side, on the left section of her stomach, below her ribcage and above her waist.

Luke’s ship ramp opened, and their heads snapped towards it. They stumbled like drunkards, waiting for his face to appear.

Doctor Aphra tucked his arm over her shoulders, and Luke’s paleness had them rushing up the ramp.

“Okay,” Aphra instructed, “pass out in your shining Knight’s arms.”

It took insurmountable strength for Luke to pick his head up, and he drank them in with a hazy gaze. First, Leia, and secondly, Ezra.

Luke clenched his jaw, and half-smiled with every muscle in his face working at maximum.

Aphra let him sway towards Ezra. Luke’s eyes fluttered closed, and Ezra caught him in his arms. Without a thought, Ezra tucked Luke’s legs underneath one arm, using the Force to lift him. His other arm cradled Luke’s injured side, and he didn’t seem to care about the blood coating his fingers. Luke’s head lolled against Ezra’s chest, and he looked infinitely peaceful despite his sickly pallor. 

Ezra cradled him gently, and Doctor Aphra was rendered speechless. Leia peeked into the Force, and saw Ezra’s Force signature blanket Luke’s weakened aura with a tenderness only a lover could achieve.

Aphra found her haste, and said, “we need to get him in the medbay.”

Ezra nodded and Leia lead the way, Aphra bringing up the rear. Han rushed towards them as they made it down the first hallway, frightened by Luke’s appearance, but saying nothing. He followed the proceedings, as did Chewie a moment later.

Leia allowed Aphra to enter the medbay, as it was her domain. She cleared out a bed and Ezra set Luke down gently.

Han and Chewbacca sat in the chairs, the duo being the calm and patient ones in this situation. Leia and Ezra took a closer vigil, watching Aphra frantically tend to and bandage the wound.

From what Leia could examine from the injury, the blaster bolt was a clear shot through his stomach. It missed his vital organs, so it would only scar, not create lasting damage.

The Force truly did work in mysterious ways.

The amount of blood that leaked out and stained the room, though, would be enough to make anyone with a weak stomach vomit all over the floor. The medbay would smell of strong antiseptic for days after this patch-up.

As Luke was strung to an IV drip to regain fluids, Aphra said hoarsely, “he needs a transfusion.”

Leia stuck out her arm thoughtlessly, and Aphra swiped her arm with alcohol without asking questions. Leia barely felt the needle stick into her vein, and focused on Luke’s sickly face as a bag filled with her blood. 

No one spoke until Aphra removed the needle, and she said, “you need to sit and drink some water.”

“I’ll get it, sweetheart,” Han said, ushering a dizzy Leia into his seat. 

Han left her hazy view, and she saw Ezra staring at his hands. He stared and stared, and Leia realized it wasn’t his hands he was staring at.

It was Luke’s blood. On his hands.

Leia’s eyes welled up, and she said weakly, “wash it off, Ezra.”

Ezra blinked, then looked at her. Leia’s words registered in his mind, and he numbly went to a sink.

She heard the sound of tap water running as Han returned with a plastic cup of water. Leia cradled it in her hands, which were suddenly cold, and sipped from it slowly.

Han settled on her opposite side, and whispered, “is he okay?”

Leia saw Ezra towel off the blood mechanically, and said quietly, “no, and he wouldn’t be.”

Han glanced at her worriedly, and decided to nudge her hands with his own. Leia held the water cup in one hand while the other intertwined with Han’s on the arm of the chair. She sipped and sipped, watching her blood drain into Luke’s veins. Her stomach roiled, and she was glad she hadn’t eaten in hours.

Ezra approached them, looking ten times older and ten times wearier than a moment earlier. Chewie held out his arms and yowled softly. Ezra blinked at him dazedly and allowed Chewbacca to pull him down, practically in the Wookiee’s lap. He hugged Ezra tightly, and Ezra smiled faintly at the comfort.

“So you do care about me,” Ezra murmured to Chewie, sounding nowhere near as quippy as he probably hoped.

Aphra plucked out the transfusion needle from Luke’s wrist and switched it for more fluids. Leia blinked herself awake, feeling very tired. She sipped the last of her water and set the cup down.

Aphra approached the group, and they looked up with their full attention.

“If it wasn’t clear,” Aphra said, noticeably pale herself, “Luke lost a lot of blood. The transfusion and fluids should render him conscious in the morning. He needs a few hours for his body to recuperate, as do we all.”

“What happened?” Leia finally croaked.

“After the palace went down,” Aphra recounted warily, “a bounty hunter shot Luke when we were on the way out.” Anger reached her eyes. “I killed him for that.”

Leia nodded, and saw three more heads bob in agreement.

Doctor Aphra deflated after there was no beratement. “Let’s get a few hours of shuteye, gang.”

————

Kanan’s Force signature woke up Ezra shortly after dawn. He was nearby, as was the entire Ghost crew.

Someone must have told them about Luke’s arrival and condition. They were headed for Ezra, and by extension, Luke.

When everyone filed out of the medbay save for him, Doctor Aphra simply tossed him a threadbare blanket. He had curled into a chair at Luke’s bedside and fell asleep in minutes, exhausted from the emotional strain of worrying about Luke.

Ezra heard the door hiss, and the blanket dropped onto his lap. Four pairs of eyes drank him in, and Ezra wondered how pitiful he must seem if even Zeb didn’t have it in him to look annoyed.

Sabine gathered Ezra into her arms, pulling him to his feet, the blanket falling to the wayside. Ezra was too shocked to hug back, and Sabine stepped away with a worried expression.

Hera appeared next, her arms squeezing around his middle from a side angle. It felt so ridiculous that Ezra snorted in amusement.

Hera smiled softly at him. “There he is.” She stepped back and asked, “how are you?”

“Um,” Ezra decided in a delicate tone, “I don’t know.”

He noticed Kanan observe Luke, who was blissfully unconscious. He stared at the bandages around Luke’s stomach, as well as his dimmed aura in the Force. Luke normally shone as bright as twin suns, and Kanan was visibly disturbed by the drastic change.

“Kriff,” Kanan muttered.

Hearing his Master curse, which he rarely did, had Ezra at a loss.

While Kanan may seem too harsh and hardened at times, when he was vulnerable, his entire Force signature bled and wailed in pain. Upon seeing Kanan’s locked emotions spill out in a momentary flood, Ezra strode towards him.

Kanan wasn’t one for physical affection, but Ezra cast an arm over Kanan’s shoulder, and they pressed together in a strange hug. 

After a beat, Ezra said gravely, “now you get it. Now you understand.”

“Understand what, Ezra?” Hera asked gently.

Kanan’s eyes didn’t leave Luke as he replied, “how extraordinary he is.”

Before Aphra left the room, she told Ezra what Luke did to get to base, and all that Luke had done to return to him. Aphra asked Luke why he did what he did, and Luke replied he made a promise to Ezra. She didn’t know what the promise was, but Ezra’s own words reverberated across his mind.

‘You will come back to me, come the burning lava of Mustafar or the heavy rains of Kamino. Do you understand?’

Without looking away from Luke, Ezra found himself saying, “he flew all the way here with a hole in his stomach because I told him to come back no matter what. He waited hours to pass out from blood loss until he saw me and knew he was safe.” Gazes burned through him, and he said, “I suppose extraordinary is one word to call that, but I can think of several more words that fit better.”

Self-sacrificial. Idiotic. Endearing. Heroic. Ridiculous. Devotional. Loving. 

The door slid open, and Doctor Aphra ignored the unfamiliar contents of the room. The only person she truly knew was Ezra, so she focused her energy on him. “Any change?”

Ezra shook his head.

“I’ll start worrying if he doesn’t wake up by noon,” Aphra decided. “I need to replace his IV drip.”

Ezra took it as an order, and said, “let’s go.”

The Ghost crew followed him out of the medbay. As they made it down the hallway, they bumped into Leia.

Her eyes widened upon seeing them together, but once again, she chose to focus on Ezra. “Anything?”

“Nope. How ya feeling after the transfusion?”

“Better now that I’ve eaten something.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll take watch. You smell.”

“Thank you,” Ezra said genuinely.

“You’re welcome,” Leia said mock-cheerily, brushing past them.

Sabine observed, “you two seem to get along.”

“Yes,” Ezra said simply.

“Does she have any friends that play for my team?”

Ezra snorted, and he thought of Aphra. “I don’t know, Sabine.”

Sabine sulked, and it lightened the mood considerably.

————

Ezra returned to give Leia a break in her watch around mid-morning. Aphra had since changed Luke into a crisp white tunic, and some color had returned to his face.

‘Angel of Iego’ was Ezra’s first thought.

Leia’s gaze was exhausted as she addressed him. “I’m getting worried.”

Ezra dropped into the chair beside her. “That’s why I’m here. To relieve you of your post.”

Leia frowned, her eyes dragging across Luke’s peaceful face. “I don’t think I should go.”

“You smell.”

“Fine!”

Ezra chuckled as she stood up angrily. “I’m sure by the time you wash your excessive amount of hair, he’ll wake up. Okay?”

Leia sighed. “You’re becoming too much like Luke. I don’t need another annoying brother!”

Ezra snort-laughed, and Leia was ready to tease him about it. “I beg to differ.”

Leia scoffed. “Okay, bye.”

“Bye!”

Leia slipped out of the medbay, and Doctor Aphra entered again. For once, she didn’t wear her pilot’s hat and goggles, her black hair a mass of waves.

Aphra frowned at Luke. “Is there any Force voodoo you wanna tell me about, dude?”

Ezra blinked at her. “It’s why I’m here. I’m gonna do some,” he put the words in air quotes, “‘Force voodoo.’”

“Fantastic,” Aphra said seriously. “What does this entail?”

“Using my aura to heal his.”

“Your aura?” Aphra snorted in disbelief. “Okay. Give that a shot. I’ll be back in a few.”

Ezra stood near Luke’s bed. He smiled wanly at the IV drip strapped to his hand, and slipped his fingers underneath his palm. The door closed behind Aphra, and Ezra closed his eyes.

The living Force thrummed between them as steadily as vital signs, heartbeats in tandem with one another.

Ezra looked inside himself, looked at all that he was and all that he could be. He looked at his failures and his accomplishments, his emotions exposed to the Force as a sparking wire. He didn’t dampen anything as he normally did, letting it flow unhindered by inner shields.

As if a dam broke, Ezra’s lightness and darkness and unbridled love poured out into the Force, an invisible flood of passion healing the massive fissure in Luke’s foundations. It ebbed and flowed in a stream, and Ezra felt a sereneness overcome him.

He opened his eyes, and Luke opened his.

Ezra grinned, the Force harmonizing in elation as Luke’s eternal light shone brighter than ever. Luke’s skin shone gold, even in the harsh medbay lighting, and his hair was a halo around his head. His dazed salient eyes cleared, and became as glittering as the lakes of Naboo.

“Luke,” Ezra breathed, lifting Luke’s delicate hand to his lips.

“Hey, babe,” Luke said, soft as a caress, his tone as casual as when he discussed the weather.

Ezra allowed Luke to bring his hand back down to his side. “Need water?”

Luke bobbed his head.

Ezra went to the sink and filled a plastic cup. He brought it to Luke, who sat up and cradled the cup in his hands. “Take sips.”

Luke tipped back the cup and sipped for a minute. When the water was half gone, Ezra set it by his bedside.

“What happened?” Luke asked.

“Leia gave you a blood transfusion,” Ezra said. His mind travelled back to the sight of far too much blood staining the floors, of Luke’s blood on his hands, of washing it away and thinking of Luke as lifeless as a tooka doll in his arms. He threw the fresh memory away and said softly, “you lost a lot of blood. A lot.”

Luke glanced around the medbay, as if imagining what Ezra saw with his own eyes. He cast his gaze downward and murmured, “I’m sorry you had to see that. I thought about what you said, and I...I guess I didn’t think about how it would affect you. Seeing me hurt.”

“You kept your promise,” Ezra said wryly, “but not in the way I expected.” He absently brushed a thumb across Luke’s smooth cheek, as if he were stroking the sunlight. “In a way, it was almost romantic.”

“But still not preferable to, you know,” Luke said amusedly, “waiting to heal before coming back here?”

“Right.”

“Noted.”

The couple smiled at each other for a moment.

Ezra remembered himself, plucking his mind from the clouds, and said, “I have a gift for you.”

“Oh yeah?”

Ezra grasped the necklace cord hidden underneath his beige shirt. He ducked his head, the necklace in his hands, a wooden shape carved with swirls dangling from the cord.

Luke’s gaze dashed from Ezra’s grip to the carved wood. Recognition glimmered upon seeing it.

“I made this for you,” Ezra murmured sheepishly. “It’s a japor snippet. For good luck.”

He expected Luke to tease him, say ‘how very unlike you, Ez,’ or ‘you made that a little late, didn’t you?’

But Luke stared at the gift without blinking and without speaking for several seconds.

Ezra’s smile was dashed, and his face fell. “Did I do something wrong?”

Luke inhaled sharply, his chest collapsing noticeably on the exhale. “No,” he said. “No, you didn’t.”

Luke held out his palm, and Ezra placed the japor snippet there, the cord dangling between his fingers. Luke’s thumb skidded across the marks on the smoothed wood.

He murmured, “my mother was buried with a japor snippet. The obituary said it was given to her by her love. That person could only be my father.” Luke’s gaze swept up to Ezra, and he smiled. “Thank you, Ez.”

He pulled the cord over his head, the japor snippet resting above Luke’s heart. It seemed to complete him in an indescribable way, and Ezra knew he did something right.

The door slid open, and Doctor Aphra nearly had a heart attack. She clutched her chest, stiffening and staring at Ezra with an open mouth.

Ezra grinned. “Force voodoo.”

Aphra finally remembered to breathe and blink. “Karabast,” she said, “color me impressed.”

Ezra turned back to Luke and smiled sweetly. “I’ll get everyone, okay?”

Luke nodded thoughtfully, and Ezra leaned down, close to Luke’s face, pausing for a beat. Luke nodded again as permission, and Ezra bridged the gap between their lips, noses brushing and smiles pressed against mouths. They felt impossibly light and dizzy, and Luke cupped Ezra’s cheek to ground himself to reality.

Too soon, Ezra nudged away, and Luke’s finger pads slipped down his recently-shaved jawline. Ezra rose to his full height, and smiled softly as he slipped out of the medbay.

Doctor Aphra fanned herself. “Damn. You both kiss with everything you have. I need a moment.”

Luke laughed, a soft pink blush surely burning his cheeks.

After a moment, Aphra advanced towards the bed and admitted, “you scared me for a bit there, farmboy.”

“I feel alright, Doc. Just a little fuzzy.”

“I would think so. Unfortunately for you,” Aphra reported, “this means you have a month of recuperation to get through.”

Luke sighed deeply and loudly. “Blast it.”

“You’ll be seein’ more of my pretty mug,” Aphra said, batting her eyelashes so ridiculously that Luke laughed.

He was cut short when Leia stumbled into the medbay, her hair damp from a shower and hanging loose down her back. Han and Chewie were a step behind her, searching the room frantically and settling on Luke’s face.

Leia launched herself forward, her Force signature radiating heavy winds and happiness. She circled her arms around his shoulders and smiled wide enough to show teeth. “How are you, you stupid idiot?”

“Hey,” Han laughed, “I thought that nickname was for me only!”

Chewbacca growled about that still being the case, and Han shot him an amused look.

“Besides the hole in my stomach,” Luke said, “I’m fine.”

Leia blinked and peered down at the wound. It had been redressed with bandages and a bacta patch underneath his silken tunic. 

“Oh,” Leia murmured, “you’re too much work, Luke.”

“Thank you,” Luke said dryly, “I appreciate that.”

Leia stepped away from the bed, and asked Aphra, “how long will he be here?”

“A long time,” Aphra said. “No getting around that.”

Chewbacca appeared on Luke’s opposite side, his massive paw patting his hair. Luke laughed again, the sound as innocent as a baby.

The door admitted more guests that Luke was not expecting: the Ghost crew.

Sabine reached his bed first, hugging him with one arm. “Hey, Luke. How do ya feel?”

“Alright,” Luke chimed. “Good to see you.”

Ezra brought up the rear, and Hera’s gaze lingered on the japor snippet around Luke’s neck. Zeb remained a silent spectator, Chopper sending him a hello beep.

“You were so dim before,” Kanan murmured, and Luke knew immediately what he meant.

“I would think so,” Luke said demurely, the pair of them receiving confused glances, but not receiving any answers.

As Doctor Aphra reappeared in Luke’s vision, Chewie moved aside to allow her to sit at his bedside. She checked the IV drip attached to Luke’s wrist and tapped it to life. “You have a lot of friends, Luke,” she observed absentmindedly, watching fluids flow into the bag.

“Oh,” Luke blinked at the group accumulated in the medbay, “this is Doctor Aphra.”

“The,” Hera asked, “Doctor Aphra?”

Aphra blinked up at her. “Who else?”

Suddenly, all gazes were on Sabine as she stammered, “I-I thought you were...n-never mind.”

Luke noted the pallor on Sabine’s skin, and recognized that she was blushing profusely at Aphra. His gaze found Ezra’s, and he was gaping from behind Sabine.

Aphra didn’t seem to notice Sabine’s unusual behavior, and she guessed, “a guy?” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve heard that one before, thankfully.”

Sabine stared at her feet, peeking at Aphra through her eyelashes, as if the sight of Aphra blinded her when she stared directly ahead.

Ezra’s eyes swept towards Luke, and he mouthed, ‘holy kriff!’

Aphra’s gaze lingered for a beat on Sabine, reading her crush. Luke expected her to glance away and brush it off.

But she smiled!

Before minds could explode, Doctor Aphra rose to her feet and refocused on Luke. “I’ll be back after I give my mission report.”

Sabine watched her go, and Luke was pretty sure Aphra knew that, and was smirking once the door closed.

“By the stars,” Sabine breathed, “who is that magnificent beauty, and why haven’t I seen her before?”

Out of everyone’s reaction, Luke thought Han’s was the most hilarious to witness. He blinked rapidly after the question was asked, and he raised a finger, as if reminding himself to calm down. When that didn’t work, he pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. He sighed deeply, and his mouth fell open in sheer shock.

When Leia entered his vision, he shut down like a rebooted machine, choosing not to express how much he finds Aphra distasteful.

Smugglers tended not to get along.

When no one answered for a moment, reactions varying from intense shock to stifling laughs, Sabine blinked at each person in turn, immensely puzzled.

“What?” She asked.

Luke held out his arm, and Sabine drew towards him. Luke patted the vacancy Aphra left, and Sabine sat at his bedside.

“That’s Doctor Chelli Lona Aphra,” Luke said measuredly. “Before she was our doctor, she smuggled for the Empire. I brought her to Tatooine because she’s trouble, and I needed her to cause some for me. While we’re friends,” he advised carefully, “I would be careful, Sabine.”

Despite her doe-eyed expression, Sabine nodded in understanding. “Thanks, Luke.”

No one said anything, but Luke could tell that he said the right thing. It was another step closer to earning the Ghost crew’s trust, and another step closer to having the future he wanted with Ezra.

It was Leia who broke the silence. “As the top officer in the room, I think we should give Luke some space now. He has to write a report.”

The massive group filed out of the medbay, save for Leia and Ezra. Leia stared pointedly at the japor snippet on Luke’s neck, and he blushed. Leia winked, going to retrieve his datapad.

When it was just Luke and Ezra in the room again, he sat at Luke’s bedside. Luke smiled, and Ezra locked their fingers together.

Leia returned with the datapad a moment later.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
